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My birthday is always a sort of time of reflection. I see that another year has gone by and question what I’ve accomplished in the interval. I remember this time last year very well. Hammerhead and I had just returned from a short road trip from Portland and I

Just got off the treadmill. Haven’t been on it in months, since I’ve been lazy and not making it to the gym much lately. When I have made it in here, I’ve wimped out and gotten on the stationary bikes. I did three miles on the treadmill.

Fresh carrot juice is sooooo good. And carrot juice in a bottle is sooooo bad. Most things aren’t like that. They’re like good/not as good or bad/worse or kinda ok/kinda not on the fresh/bottled matrix. But carrot juice just runs screaming from one end

I’m back in my old hood, up on Alamo Square. I’m here to pick up cat food, but I’ve taken a detour up the hill to sit on this park bench and write. This place seems off-limits to me now and I don’t like it. It’

Trying to figure out what to do tonight. I’m on Bart on my way to Oakland to meet up with El Destino and perhaps go catch a movie. Tonight the new DePalma flick goes up against Eminem’s screen debut. Ironically the Eminem movie looks like it’ll be

I can’t believe what a full day I had today! It sure beats the heck out of boring, although I have to admit that with the drama that goes on around making a living, sometimes boring sounds good to me. I woke at a (somewhat) reasonable hour, and got

I think maybe I’m too old and (sometimes) make too much money to be a «starving artist» but sometimes I do scrounge for food. Well, last night after resigning myself to a week of beans, rice, and oatmeal, I discovered an unopened pack of hot dogs in the refrigerator.